


Ghosts of Jonah

by DNAchemLia



Category: NCIS, Supernatural
Genre: Gen, NFA Nepal Relief Auction fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-30
Updated: 2015-10-05
Packaged: 2018-04-24 03:09:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,741
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4903240
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DNAchemLia/pseuds/DNAchemLia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A series of mysterious deaths aboard a Navy vessel brings in the MCRT, along with some 'special consultants'.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

  * For [IMSLES](https://archiveofourown.org/users/IMSLES/gifts).



> Nepal Relief Auction fic for IMSLES  
> Request: NCIS/Supernatural crossover, a ghost on a ship or in the Navy Yard, and John Winchester included as a crossover character.  
> Pre-series for Supernatural, set in early season 2 for NCIS.  
> Disclaimer: All recognizable characters are the property of their respective copyright holders. No infringement intended. The original characters and places mentioned are the product of the author's imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to those living, dead, or undead is completely coincidental.

Prologue

_God, I_ _ **hate**_   _the Navy!_

Ensign Darren Sanders clenched his fists and stalked back towards his quarters, seething after the reprimand he had just received from the Commander over his perceived lack of respect towards his superiors. He had merely tried to explain that there was a new method that could be used to make the work they were doing more efficient, and he had refrained from calling the Commander a dinosaur for his old-fashioned methods, but the man had clearly sensed his disdain and called Sanders to the carpet for it.

He knew all about the attitudes that were found in the higher ranks. He knew about the expectations of respect and subservience. He had thought he was prepared, but the Commander just completely rubbed him the wrong way.

_If I could just get off this damn ship, I'd be better off._

His insubordination, mild as it was, had already cost him three days of leave. They had finally made it to port after six months at sea and he had been looking forward to meeting his girlfriend in town but now all his plans were for nothing. He was stuck on board for another six months and if he didn't jump overboard before that time was up it would be a freaking miracle.

Deciding that he needed to cool off a little more before turning in, Sanders changed direction and headed for the upper deck of the cruiser. At least he'd have a good view of town from up there, and the wind off the harbor might cool him down enough to let him sleep.

Once he had reached the deck he moved to the rail and looked out over the harbor to see the lights of the city a few miles away. He wondered, not first the first time, why he had even agreed to follow family tradition and joined the Navy in the first place. His heart wasn't in it like his father's had been, or his grandfather (if his father's stories were true). He'd never felt the call of the sea or seen the need to become part of something that required so much sacrifice. He had the brains and drive to do so much more but he'd bowed to his father's influence and had set himself on a course that wasn't taking him where he wanted to go. He wondered if it wasn't too late for a career change…

He had been standing there for perhaps fifteen minutes when he finally decided it was time to go back to his quarters - it was getting chilly. Just as he was making that decision the temperature seemed to drop about 40 degrees and much to his surprise he could see his breath when he let out a slow exhalation. He felt all the hairs rise on the back of his neck and, sensing a presence behind him, he started to turn, almost expecting (hoping) to see the Commander behind him, ready to give another lecture.

The next thing he knew he had flipped over the railing and he was falling towards the deck below. He barely had time to scream before agony slammed into him and everything went dark.

XXX

Commander Barry Thompson adjusted his cover and stepped out onto the deck, shaking his head at the memory of his earlier confrontation with Ensign Sanders. The kid was a hothead, and more than a little full of himself, that was certain. Dan had warned him about Darren and Thompson had been chagrined to learn that the boy's father was right, but he had promised his old crewmate that he'd straighten Darren out. Learning to respect his senior officers was a well-needed first step in that process.

A short, strangled scream, followed almost immediately by a heavy thump pulled him from his thoughts and he started to search for the source of the sound. There weren't many crew members left on the ship, since most were out on liberty. He sincerely hoped the ones left behind hadn't gotten into a fight to take out their frustrations for being confined to the ship.

Thompson rounded the corner and almost tripped over something lying on the deck. A quick glance revealed that it was a body. He sucked in a breath in surprise and leaned down to check for signs of life.

_No pulse. Damn it._

He started to call for assistance as the clouds parted and in the dim moonlight he saw the wide, dead eyes of the unfortunate man. Very familiar eyes.

_Darren?_

He tried again to find some signs of life, but there was nothing. Dan's boy was dead.

"Damn it, son, what did you  _do?_ "

Soon a second thought penetrated his personal grief and he felt a sinking sensation in his stomach.

_Oh, God. Not again…_

TBC...


	2. Chapter 2

Ghosts of Jonah

 

Chapter 1

 

A loud banging rudely pulled Tim McGee into wakefulness and he sat up in bed, blinking rapidly to clear the fuzziness from his mind. He listened as he tried to figure out what had caused the racket and soon he heard it again, followed by a familiar voice.

 

_“Rise and shine, Probie!”_

 

McGee glanced at his clock and groaned as he stumbled out of bed, wondering just what in the hell Tony was doing at his apartment at 0300. When he reached the door to his apartment he peered through the peephole and saw the senior agent standing in the hallway, looking far too awake for the earliness of the hour.

 

“What do you want, Tony?” he asked through the door.

 

_“We’ve got a case. Norfolk. Get moving.”_

 

“Give me five minutes.”

 

_“You’ve got three. Clock’s ticking, McGee. Chop chop.”_

 

McGee muttered a few things about what he thought of that directive as he hurried back into his bedroom to get dressed. After a quick stop in the bathroom to take care of necessities, and deciding that he really didn’t need to shave, he pulled on his work clothes, socks, and shoes before heading back out into the living room. He quickly located his jacket and swoop cap, along with his gun and badge and had everything on or in place before he opened the door.

 

“Two minutes and fifty seconds. Not bad, Probie,” Tony greeted him as he made a big show of checking his watch. “Let’s go.”

 

“Why are we on this case?”

 

“Apparently someone asked for us specifically. We’re just that good. Well, most of us.”

 

McGee ignored the jab and followed Tony out to the parking lot where an agency sedan waited.

 

“Gibbs and Kate?”

 

“Meeting us there with the truck. Hop in.”

 

McGee made sure he was buckled in before Tony started the engine and the sedan roared out of the parking lot. While not as scary as Gibbs’ driving, Tony drove more recklessly than McGee would have liked. He just hoped they’d make it to the scene in one piece.

 

The sun was just cresting the horizon by the time they made it to the base at Norfolk. Tony guided the sedan towards the docks and soon they saw the MCRT truck and M.E.’s van parked next to a large ship.

 

Ticonderoga class cruiser, McGee thought to himself as he read the name of the ship painted in block letters below the first deck: USS Vella Gulf. He quickly checked his bag for the bottle of Dramamine he had added to his gear for just this type of situation. He didn’t need his new team to see him throw up the minute he stepped aboard a ship. While Tony’s attention was diverted he quickly dry-swallowed two pills and stuffed the bottle back in his knapsack.

 

“What are you doing, McGee? Get a move on.”

 

“On it.”

 

He followed Tony over the the truck where Gibbs and a decidedly grumpy-looking Kate were waiting, wincing when he caught the glare Gibbs sent them.

 

“About time you two showed up.”

 

“Sorry, Boss. Had to wait on McSlowpoke.”

 

“I was ready in less than three minutes, Tony.”

 

“Do I look like I care?” Gibbs snapped and both men fell silent. He turned to the sailor waiting at attention next to the gangplank and nodded before the man turned and led them up the ramp to the deck where a man with the insignia of a Commander on his uniform waited for them.

 

“Agent Gibbs. It’s been awhile.” The Commander stepped forward and shook Gibbs’ hand, clearly relieved to see him.

 

“Commander Thompson. Yes, it has.” He gestured towards the rest of the team. “My people: Agents Todd, DiNozzo, and McGee. Dr. Mallard, our M.E. and Palmer, his assistant.”

 

The Commander nodded in greeting at the others but paused when he saw the junior agent. “McGee? You’re Admiral McGee’s boy?”

 

“Yes, sir,” Tim replied, wishing that the deck would open up and swallow him whole as he felt his teammates’ scrutiny.

 

“Good to meet you. I’ve heard good things about you.”

 

“Thank you, sir.” _And I’m sure that was **before** I joined NCIS_ , McGee thought, darkly, while ignoring Tony and Kate’s stares.

 

“What’s going on, Commander?”

 

“One of my men, Ensign Sanders. He fell from the top deck last night. The local agents are here, but… I know you, Gibbs, I trust you I need this thing to be handled correctly.”

 

“You think it was suicide?”

 

Thompson ran a rough hand over his face before replying. “I doubt it. Sanders never struck me as the type to give up like that. Stubborn, like his father, but unstable enough to take his own life over something so…? No. No, I don’t think it was a suicide.”

 

“Over what, Commander?” Kate asked. “What happened last night?”

 

“Sanders was insubordinate. I reprimanded him for it. He left my office, clearly angry. I figured he would take some time to cool off, but then he’d come around. He has...had a temper like his father. Dan Sanders and I were bunkmates at the Academy, and...well, they were a lot alike. Dan asked me to keep an eye on him, and… Damn it.”

 

“Any signs of intoxication? Could he have lost his balance and fallen because of it?”

 

Anger flashed in Thompson’s eyes as he rounded on Tony.

 

“I run a tight ship, Agent DiNozzo. No drugs, no booze, not even for the officers. They can get the later when they’re off the ship, but we’re very strict about our random drug screening for those on board.”

 

“Sanders hadn’t been out on Liberty, then? Why not?”

 

“Punishment for his attitude. And no, he hasn’t been off the ship for over six months.”

 

“Ouch,” Tony muttered, earning him a glare from Gibbs.

 

“Where is the unfortunate gentleman?” Ducky asked.

 

Thompson sighed. “Follow me.” He lead them to an area that had been cordoned off with crime scene tape where two agents from the Norfolk office were waiting. Both nodded to McGee before turning to Gibbs for instructions, and Ducky moved forward to examine the body. Ensign Sanders lay face down, darkening blood pooled around him, and his neck twisted at an odd angle from where he had hit the deck. Jimmy started snapping pictures while Ducky began his examination.

 

“Cause of death appears to be a severed spinal cord caused by traumatic fracture of the 4th and 5th cervical vertebrae.” Ducky checked over the man’s hands and forearms. “No sign of a struggle.”

 

“Any witnesses?”

 

Thompson nodded. “Me. I was leaving my office when I heard a scream quickly followed by the sound of something hitting the deck. I searched and found Sanders just like that. I checked for a pulse, but there was nothing.”

 

“You heard a scream? Was it Sanders?”

 

“I suppose it must have been. No one else was on deck.” He noticed the expression on Kate’s face. “Why? Is that important?”

 

“Maybe. Who else was on board last night?”

 

“I’ll have my Yeoman get you a list. Most of the crew was gone, but there were a few sailors who were confined to their quarters, and some junior officers who opted not to take shore leave.”

 

“We’ll need to speak to them. Was anyone working near the place from where Ensign Sanders fell?”

 

“No. No one was on the top deck last night. I checked as soon as I could.”

 

“Thank you Commander. We’ll take it from here.”

 

Tony looked up towards the top deck and frowned. “Was that netting there last night?” he asked, pointing towards the mass of twisted cord that stretched across the front of the top deck, suspended from two pulleys.

 

“Yes. We put it up as a safety precaution, since the men were going to be doing repairs on the top deck today.”

 

“Didn’t help your Ensign much,” Tony muttered and McGee silently agreed.

 

“No, it didn’t. I honestly don’t know what happened.” Thompson took a deep breath, steeling himself for the next statement. “And it’s not the first time this has happened.”

 

“When?”

 

“About three months ago a Seaman Recruit on his first tour, Parker Elsworth, fell from the forecastle. We were at sea and the Agent Afloat from the nearest carrier was sent out to investigate. He concluded it was an accident, but... According to his supervising officer, Elsworth was one of the most safety-conscious men he’d ever met. It made no sense.”

 

“You suspect the deaths are related? Homicide?”

 

“I’d hate to think that such a thing could occur on my ship. It could be a coincidence…”

 

“No such thing as coincidence. Any other suspicious deaths?”

 

“Not recently. There are always accidents, it’s the nature of the job.”

 

“Understood. DiNozzo, McGee, check out the top deck. Kate, help Ducky. I’ll start with the crew.”

 

“Yes, Boss,” they chorused and McGee followed Tony up to the top deck. He stayed as far from the edge as possible as he searched for signs of violence or another participant in the previous night’s events. They found a scattering of prints on the rail, none of which were suitable for comparison. Finally, much to McGee’s relief, Tony decided they were finished and they headed back down to the main deck.

 

“Oh, wait,” Tony exclaimed with a wicked grin. “I forgot my camera case upstairs. Go fetch it, Probie.”

 

“You left it behind, you should go get it.”

 

“Who’s the senior agent?”

 

Tim sighed. “You are.”

 

“And does fetching equipment sound like a senior agent’s job?”

 

“Apparently not,” McGee muttered and headed back up the stairs to the deck. He searched the area and found the case, of course, right by the edge of the railing. He snatched it up by the strap and straightened up, trying very carefully not to look down. Suddenly his hips impacted with the railing and he flipped over it, head first. Too surprised to scream, his flailing arms snagged the netting as he fell, abruptly stopping his descent and nearly tearing his arms from their sockets. As he hung suspended over the deck, he finally managed to drawn in enough breath to scream.

 

_“HELP!”_

 

He heard shouts and and sound of running feet below, and several moments later he heard voices above him, calling down encouragement.

 

“Just hang on, Agent McGee. We’ll get you down as soon as we can.”

 

“Hurry,” he whimpered, hoping they hadn’t actually heard how weak he sounded. He managed to raise one leg and wrap it over the netting, taking some of the strain from his arms.

 

“Agent McGee, we’re going to have to lower you down to the deck. Hold on tight.”

 

McGee nodded and soon he felt the netting start to descend. He tightened his grip as much as he could, closed his eyes, and prayed.

 

After what seemed like an eternity his dangling foot touched solid metal and a moment later he was lying on the deck, still tangled in the net. Rough hands helped free him and when he managed to open his eyes he saw his team standing over him.

 

“Are you alright, McGee?” Kate asked, and he gave her a shaky nod.

 

“Good thing you grabbed that net, McKlutz,” Tony snarked, earning him a smack from Gibbs.

 

“What happened, McGee?”

 

Tim fought the nausea that had arisen as he remembered what he had felt just before he had gone over the railing. “I didn’t trip, Boss, that’s not why I fell.”

 

He raised his eyes and met Gibbs’ angry, worried gaze, his voiced colored with fear.

 

“I was _pushed.”_

 

TBC…

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



End file.
